


Yours Alone.

by hyapporankan



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-01-02 23:34:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21169709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyapporankan/pseuds/hyapporankan
Summary: A collection of one-shots centered around Dimitri and Byleth's relationship, including "missing scenes", "alternate scenes", and potentially AU content.





	1. Shape

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a long time since I've written for an audience, but I was really inspired to write scenes for Dimitri and Byleth because of how much I love their relationship! My style is definitely imperfect, and I treated this more as an exercise for myself than a proper fic, but I was really happy with the result and felt compelled to share. 
> 
> The below chapter can be either an alternate confession scene, or a follow up scene to the S-Support dialogue.
> 
> If you enjoy this work, or would like to see a prompt fulfilled (as I plan to make this a multichaptered one-shot fic), please leave a comment either below, or send me an ask on my writing tumblr of the same name. Thank you! Constructive criticism is more than welcome, though I'm fully aware at how disorganized this is :') I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless!

The soft _clink _of porcelain as he placed his teacup squarely atop the table heralded the fine knot of nerves twisting in his stomach. As certain as he was of himself and his feelings, conveying his truth to her was an altogether different struggle. Dimitri had a tendency to break fragile things, and rather than risk heartache through his boorish, poorly chosen words, he preferred to instead nestle those precious feelings beneath his rib cage, and shoulder his affection in silence. Out of sight, always near to his heart. _Safe_.

He continued to justify his cowardice in this manner, prolonging addressing the depth of his affections because _the timing was inopportune_, _war engulfed the continent_, _he became a monster as he threw himself headlong into his grief_; and just like that, ever glorious in his narrow periphery, she remained just beyond his bloodied grasp. Seated across from her, in the privacy of her quarters, sipping his favorite Chamomile blend (that she remembered after all this time warmed his heart more than the tea itself), he could no longer resign himself to remaining captive to his fears — he’d run out of excuses.

There was a future to live for, now. People to live for, people to fight for.

He steeled his nerve, hoping his resilience could rival the mythril used to forge their legendary weapons of old, and finally, _finally _lifted his gaze to her face. Her eyes met his own, as if she’d been waiting for him all this time. Did she know how long he’d waited for her? _She’s beautiful,_ he thought as he leveled his gaze, her eyes intent, searching. _The hue of a great jade sea._ He wondered if he’d drown should he stare into their depths too long. It was difficult to breath, he conceded, with his heart hammering in his chest (and perhaps embarrassingly enough, it was the only sound to fill the silence of her room).

He wondered if he was _already _drowning. 

As if pulling free from the gossamer of cobwebs, memories long untouched began to surface in his mind, and it wasn’t the first time Dimitri considered his blinded eye would forever be looking backwards. He felt it all too much; the desperation, the anger, the anguish, and the hysteria — even the _sound _of it all, above the din of Edelgard’s declared war, he cried out like a wounded animal when he’d learned of his professor’s disappearance. It clawed at his throat back then, choking the air from his lungs like a vise, acrid and sour, like bile upon his tongue.

A part of him longed to wonder if he’d been drowning for the last five years. Another part reminded him sternly that he _had_, only he’d chosen a sea of blood instead of his _Beloved’s _light (and by The Goddess, she was _radiant_; a sliver of pale moonlight filtering through the dense Faerghus pines, cutting through his darkness with gentility, with purpose).

“Whether we attempt to give it, or receive it from another…” he hesitated, voice grave as he fully understood the truth behind his own sentiment for the first time. Atop the table, his hand gentle curled into a fist, as if he were bracing himself for his own words. “Life… has not shaped us for love, Professor.”

“An… _astute _observation.” she murmured. There was a long pause before she found the words to speak, quiet and crestfallen, and Dimitri cursed himself that his poor segue into professing his innermost feelings had harmed her so, even if unintentionally. Having grown endeared to her placid visage over the years, he was able to sense even the most minute shift in her expression. Her brow pinched ever so slightly, her shoulders sagged beneath an unseen weight as she withdrew into herself.

“Forgive me, _I —_ That wasn’t what I meant to say. Or rather, it was unkind of me.” A part of him longed to reach out to comfort her, to feel the soft strands of her hair between the pads of his fingers, wondering if it was as soft as fresh snow fall. Pale verdant, like the spring in Faerghus’ most northern territory. Another part of him quieted the innocent longing; he’d never be able to wash the blood from his hands, and the thought of staining her crimson was too much to bear.

“I merely meant that I… Despite everything, I cannot help but to think… to _hope_…” his chair scraped against the floor, the boards creaking beneath the weight of his armor as he suddenly stood. Such a blunder was a greater weight to bear than embarrassment or ceremony. The teacups rattled with the movement, Chamomille sloshing noisily as if to punctuate his jagged edges. His voice faltered only slightly, a tremor of yearning. It was a moment before he spoke once more, quieter than before, and his gaze softened into something unbearably tender. “That life has perhaps… shaped us for one another.”

Heat bloomed across his cheekbones, his hands flat atop the table as he realized belatedly how close he’d leaned towards her. Dimitri swallowed thickly, rendered immobile by his overwhelming affection. Seconds ticked by in heavy silence, and the thought of spending an eternity gazing at her so openly was as enticing as it was fearsome.

“_Profe —"_ he began hoarsely, when the silence became too much for him to bear any longer, but the word scarcely formed upon his lips before she placed her warm hand atop his own. His gaze dropped for just a moment to marvel at how gently her fingers threaded with his.

“Perhaps you’re right.” For all his unmatched strength, the fondness in her voice nearly broke him (then again, he wondered if he’d been doomed to become a ruin of a man from the day he met her; if it meant never being apart from her, he welcomed his fate with open arms), and the sentiment drew his eye up to meet hers once more. She’d risen from her seat to mirror him, cheeks pink and lips parted as if in anticipation. A lifetime ago, he’d proudly confessed how he adored her smile, how earning her happiness was a greater boon than winning the mock Battle of The Eagle and Lion. Today, he realized Byleth’s smile was another reason to live for.

“In fact, it _must _be true.” She continued unfazed, even as he spoke nothing. Would there ever come a day when she wouldn’t awe him with her warmth? Raising their entwined hands, she brushed her lips atop his knuckles in a chaste whisper of affection.

“ Just look, for a moment, at how perfectly my hand fits in yours.”


	2. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's meant to specifically follow Chapter 17 of Azure Moon, but it could probably fit in anywhere tbh.

The muffled din of unceasing rainfall mingled with the soft crackle of dying embers in the hearth. She threw a couple logs atop the charred remains of fire, a small plume of ash protesting the abrupt roughness of it, before the flames were gradually revived. 

Dimitri sat slumped in a chair beside the table they’d once used for taking tea, making lesson plans, or studying new battle strategies. A film of dust had settled atop its smooth, oaken surface _—_ the mark of five years worth of disuse; the mark of several more _arduous _months, blatantly ignoring the five years of disuse, refusing to cling to memories that now seemed an unreachable dream. As if in silent protest, Byleth scrubbed the soaking fabric of her cloak-sleeve across its surface. Dust motes swirled in the warming air (it was the first time she wondered if she had a particular knack for disrupting the natural order of things, or perhaps she just rejected the world as it was instead of what it ought to be), and she left behind a streaked mess. She supposed it needed proper care to restore it back to some semblance of its former use, but it was a start. 

A cold, tentative hand came to rest over her own, and Byleth blinked away her blurred vision. _Odd_, she thought, _that the rain could reach indoors like this._ She glanced at Dimitri from beneath her lashes, an apologetic smile ghosting her lips as she realized he’d been watching her most closely. As if after pushing her away all this time, he’d realized he couldn’t let her out of his narrow line of sight.

Not again. _Never _again. 

He didn’t revere her like Seteth, or Gilbert, or the rest of the Knights of Seiros seemed to. Though there was something in the way his gaze, rheumy and red-rimmed with tears, fixed upon her alone, that made her stomach flutter with something she couldn’t quite name. It seemed an unpleasant thought, to choke on butterfly’s wings, so she swallowed thickly before rounding the table to unfasten Dimitri’s cloak, to escape his unwavering eye.

“This is something I used to do for my father.” she finally spoke, the gentle lilt of her voice cutting the quiet. Drenched in rainwater, his furs were heavier than she imagined. She remained silent about their weight, reasoning that the dead he carried on his back, that gripped and clawed at his throat like a vise, like an albatross, were far heavier than piles of fabric and the rain to wash him clean. Byleth draped his cloak upon the floor in front of the hearth to dry, before returning to Dimitri’s side to unfasten a pauldron from his shoulder.

“He and I understood each other without having to say much.” the silence threatening to swallow her voice was punctuated with each dull, metallic thud of his armor pieces as she placed them on the floor. “Part of me knew it hurt him, that I wasn’t so open about my feelings. But he knew I helped to care for him because I loved him.”

He remained deathly still despite the trembling of his hands, his breath shallow as his gaze remained fixed upon a pile of worn books atop her writing desk. Focused; looking, but unseeing. Like cornered prey planning an escape, like a predator thrilled by the chase; she couldn’t discern which role was his, she couldn’t discern which role was hers. _Is he captive to fear of the unknown, or anticipation of a new dawn?_

Somehow, the thought compelled her to keep talking, “ _—_ So please, let me do this for you, Dimitri.”

His hand found hers again, catching her deft fingers just as she’d moved in front of him and finished removing his chest plate. Lightly, as if she were something fragile (with his touch alone, she was) he pressed her palm flat against his chest, over his own heart. The erratic rhythm was foreign to her, and her cheeks lit aflame as if she were intruding on something private, intimate; something altogether not meant for her.

“It’s rare to hear you talk at length like this, Professor.” he said, his gaze piercing, despite his voice hoarse and colored with a tremor (_of yearning? excitement? fear?_), “We both know I’m a rather... _thick-headed_ man, especially when it counts.” he almost seemed to flinch, as if wounded by his own words, “But I won’t catch your meaning if you don’t speak it plainly.”

Moments passed, their breaths caught in their throats, fire crackled in the hearth, Dimitri’s heartbeat thundered in her ears, butterflies threatened to choke her, and despite still drenched from the unceasing downpour, the room became almost impossibly too warm to bear. Byleth swallowed again, her mouth dry. Her lips moved to form the words, but it was another few seconds before the words took form. 

“You... most _certainly _will.” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her fingers clenched against his chest, twisting in the fabric of his tunic, and she was emboldened by the way his hand pressed securely over her own, as if to encourage her. Her free hand came up to his cheek, fingertips brushing against his jawline, as if to return the way he’d held her in place with just a touch. 

A part of her realized she was leaning closer over him, that her forehead pressed against his. Byleth looked into the blue of his exposed eye, unflinching despite the shadows of darkness lurking beneath its depths. Dimitri, in turn, looked back into the impossible green of her gaze, and their blessed light. Like heaven and earth meeting to kiss upon the skyline, their colors mingled; like one another’s mirror, until they became their own reflections of refracted light and encroaching shadow.

“After all,_ ‘we’re the same, you and I’_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoy this work, or would like to request a prompt to be fulfilled (as I plan to make this a multichaptered one-shot fic), please leave a comment either below, or send me an ask on my writing tumblr of the same name. Thank you!


	3. Like Phantoms, Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU (but also based off a personal headcanon of mine that I’m hoping becomes a main plot device for the potential “True Route”). With each Divine Pulse, she turns back the hands of time. It’s a lonely prospect in theory, but his ghosts keeps her company. Also definitely named this one after MCR, lol.

The first ended peacefully enough, and yet her mind couldn’t help but to wander; could she have lead him down a path with less conflict? Would he learn to love the world again if only she’d done things differently? Would he learn to love himself? 

The second, she fought for a gilded pursuit of truth, and learned she couldn’t save him from himself despite her best intentions. When she was finally able to reach out her hand in friendship, he was already a bloodstain upon Aymr’s blade. 

The third, she betrayed his every confidence in the name of revolution; in the name of _less _bloodshed. And even so, she could never seem to wash the stains from her clothes, her hands, her heart. It almost seemed an ironic thing, that she might rue the day her heart began to beat once more; that perhaps feeling _nothing _was preferable to the heavy weight of grief in her chest.

The fourth, she wondered if it was more merciful to drive the Creator Sword into his heart herself. How much could a quest for clarity be worth, when her vision remained hazy with unshed tears? He was just as much a ghost to haunt her, as she had been one to him.

_Divine Pulse,_ she thought, _Divine Curse._

Byleth had long since lost count of every fall she’d taken backwards, hundreds upon thousands of permutations of her choices. She couldn’t recall when she began to fully understand what Dimitri meant when he’d described his visceral hauntings to her a lifetime ago (_many _lifetimes ago); nor could she bear to allow her thoughts to linger, lest she truly contest with the burden of her knowledge.

Her stomach lurched as her wretchedly buzzing mind came to a sudden halt, and she felt herself stumble over her own feet. She forced herself to swallow the familiar acrid taste of bile as a reassuring hand upon her arm helped to steady her.

“Are you all right?” he asked, brow pinched in concern beneath his youthful blonde fringe. His eyes almost seemed to shine like sapphires, light and darkness refracting in each facet. Beautiful, brilliant, and sad, sad blue.“You look quite pale — perhaps we ought to stop and rest a moment.”

“Always so kind,” she patted his arm affectionately, before ruefully pulling away. He returned her gesture with a mix of skepticism and confusion coloring his visage _—_ perhaps in part to her careless slip of the tongue; how was she already meant to know the depth of his kindness, the well of sadness from which it found its source? It was still far too early, this time around.

As if to further convince him, she smiled softly. “Thank you, but I’ll be just fine.”

It seemed to appease him enough, and she breathed a sigh of relief she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in. In her ear, his ghosts whispered to her, _“I suppose that look on your face is just another boon from this glorious day.” _and she prayed to whoever might be listening that he wouldn’t notice the way her nails carved bloody crescents into the palm of her tightly clenched hand.

“This will be your first time at the monastery,” Dimitri said, mercifully changing the subject. The hopeful edge in his tone twisted like a knife in her heart, and suddenly the rays of light streaming through the dense foliage were too bright for her sensitive eyes. “I’d be happy to show you around.”

“I’d like that very much.” she nodded as she fell into step alongside him once again. It wasn’t the first time she wondered if this was all perhaps a dream, the way his presence took root in her heart, bloomed and wilted and defied all natural laws of time and space. He was so _close _to her now, she could feel his warmth each time their shoulders occasionally brushed, and yet so very far away. Like something ephemeral, unreachable; like something from a dream. In how many lives had they existed to one another as mere phantoms, she wondered, as whispers of lingering touches and unspoken words they’d still heard despite the deafening silence? 

If she blinked, would she awaken from another five years slumber to turn him into a corpse by her own hand? _Such a notion is far more nightmarish, _she thought, a small frown tugging the corners of her lips, _but I should’ve known that one day, he would be haunting me as well._

“Let’s be off, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honestly shocked at the amount of interest shown in just two chapters, so thank you very much for the kudos & comments! My update schedule will unfortunately be incredibly irregular, though I am about halfway done with my next chapter, and have been mulling over ideas/prompts for future chapters as well. Thank you again! <3


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